


His Own Decision

by Darth_Videtur



Series: Gift Fics for Awesome Peoples [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Darth Plagueis - James Luceno
Genre: M/M, Secret Senate Fic Exhange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Videtur/pseuds/Darth_Videtur
Summary: A mission to explore Coruscant goes a little awry, although a certain Sith Lord and his favorite assassin don't mind.
Relationships: Sheev Palpatine/Sate Pestage
Series: Gift Fics for Awesome Peoples [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/925275
Comments: 31
Kudos: 16





	His Own Decision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Multiversed_Daydreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiversed_Daydreamer/gifts).



The first time Palpatine experienced disorientation on the massive city-planet, he hated it. Little could be done, because he and Sate Pestage happened to be so far below the surface of Coruscant that wayside dimensional map generators either did not exist or had been broken down for their parts by the local denizens long ago. He peered up into the gathered gloom and saw no sign of the distant night sky, just endless rows of dilapidated apartments and warehouses, their windows winking with small electric lights. 

“Are you sure we’re going the right direction?” he asked Sate.

The dark-haired man glanced back at him, and Palpatine could sense muted amusement. Of course, Sate was too professional to say anything questionable aloud. “As far as my scanner shows,” Sate said with a shrug. “I’ve been this far before, anyway.”

Palpatine often wondered why his instincts, why the _Force,_ told him to trust this shifty-eyed human. Ever since their initial meeting on Naboo, when Palpatine was seeking to arrange the assassination of his mentor Vidar Kim (how that still burned!), he had felt strangely drawn to the quiet operative. Each of them worked very well in their private theaters of expertise, and when they collaborated, the results pleased Palpatine every time. Plagueis was pleased too, to witness their teamwork.

Though Plagueis was far away in the galaxy now, convalescing from the assassination attempt and, Palpatine sneered, licking his wounds in his secret labs. 

If only he and Sate had been just a few seconds later to the ceremony… he could have been free. He forced the thought away. Plagueis was his master, and that was how it was. One did not simply upend the status quo without considering the consequences.

Mutual respect, perhaps, was the expression he could use to describe his and Sate’s relationship. Certainly now, after the Canted Circle, Sate could appreciate the finer talents that Palpatine hid under his public persona, and he admired Palpatine’s political intelligence, his way of digging into the truth behind others. For his part, Palpatine admired Sate’s efficiency, dedication, and breadth of knowledge. Never once had he needed to rebuke or redirect the sallow-skinned human after assigning a task, almost as if Sate could guess his wishes before he ever spoke.

Few partnerships could be called so successful. Now that Palpatine was the new Senator of Naboo and the Chommell Sector, he needed to familiarize himself with the city-planet of Coruscant, and no one knew the winding corridors of the capital like Sate Pestage. This explained why he was currently trudging along behind the other man, hooded cloak pulled tightly around him, thoroughly lost in one of the deeper trenches of the CoCo Town District. He was now even more glad they had left Kinman behind for this trip. The mockery would have been endless. 

This was one of the rare times he missed Naboo’s flat architectural style, he had to admit.

“There.” Sate pointed up to his right, a satisfied ring in his voice. Palpatine looked up.

“That?” he asked, knowing he sounded skeptical and not really caring. Their destination barely earned such a designation. The entire front was covered in garish lettering, which advertised everything from Corellian steaks (a euphemism for death sticks) to Twi’lek escorts. The metal exterior was corroding and rusted, one of the outer windows half-smashed in. Three Weequays huddled on the primary landing, their clothing a perfect match for their surroundings. Palpatine felt his upper lip twisting in disdain.

Sate grinned at his obvious discomfort. “Yes, that’s her alright. The front is just that. A front. The quality goods are inside.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Palpatine muttered within his deep hood, but he followed Sate toward the steps that led to the second-level main entrance. The rickety frame swayed with their combined weight, and Palpatine almost called the mission off then. The Force was still quiet in his mind, the internal warnings silent, but he disliked the situation all the same.

Sate must have sensed something, because he turned back and hesitated. “They don’t actually do the trades here, just the negotiating. Several senators are known to come here and play the odds.”

“That’s supposed to comfort me? Senators aren’t known for their common sense, Sate.”

“That’s why I’m along,” Sate deadpanned. “To keep you out of trouble.”

 _You know me better than that, Sate._ Palpatine sidestepped a tiny, matted pile of something breathing on the last step. One of the Weequays staggered to his feet and studied the newcomers with a predatory gleam in his beady eyes, but he backed away when Sate boldly pushed past him. Palpatine pulled his hood further down as he passed, but he could feel the Weequay’s dim presence in the Force, interested and greedy.

Whether the interest was within the realm of normal for this place, well, time would tell.

When Sate motioned him through the doors, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the smoky, shadowed interior. Hideous sound masquerading as music thrummed through the building and vibrated his bones. Flashing colored lights strobed at random intervals through the far door of the main entrance; figures moved and laughed with drinks in their hands and tentacles. He took it all in and concluded: a typical club for the scum of Coruscant’s lower levels. When he ruled, places like this would be slagged and converted into the new layout of his capital city. Let the fools go to other planets and play their motley games. He would certainly not suffer them here.

Sate touched his shoulder. “Over there,” he called, pointing at a door near the bar and moving for it.

Palpatine followed with no small amount of reluctance. It could not possibly be that bad, yes?

\-----------------------------------

Yes. Yes, it was. 

\---------------------------------- 

“Are you trying to get us killed?!” Palpatine snapped, ducking as he sensed the incoming blaster shot and watched it ricochet off the slimy dumpster to his right.

“I’m trying to keep us alive!” Sate shouted back. He jerked his own blaster up and fired wildly behind them, and a yelp sounded from one of the Weequays.

“This whole thing was your idea, I’ll have you know,” Palpatine growled.

Pestage reached out and grasped the shoulder of his robes, yanking him into a sharp turn down a small alleyway.

“We can argue about it later, sir.”

“I can guarantee that,” Palpatine seethed, shrugging the grip off. He wasn’t worried for his own safety, certainly. But if Pestage was stupid enough to get himself killed in the middle of Coruscant’s Force-forsaken underbelly, Palpatine would be forced to invest in the training of a new assistant. He really did not have time for that. He was supposed to be keeping a low profile as the new Senator of the Chommell Sector.

Not sprinting down dark alleyways with screaming rabid Weequays strung out behind and chasing after him like a fresh shaak steak.

_Really, Sate?_

He wanted to turn on them with his lightsaber or the Force and simply shred them, but Senator Palpatine's presence here tonight was known by too many to allow Sidious to also appear. They pounded down alley after alley, until Sate pulled him hard to one side and through an ancient warehouse flipdoor. The taller man motioned to yet another rickety staircase, and Palpatine sighed. He bit back a sarcastic word or three and dashed up, Sate close behind him. 

Two more hallways, dodging old machinery and slagged parts, leaping over old boxes long pirated, and they arrived. 

At a dead end. 

Palpatine swiveled on Sate. "Really?"

Sate shrugged, and pushed a small, half hidden panel on the wall. A section of it slid up and back, revealing a…

Very long drop down the side of the warehouse in the open air.

“We’re going to have to jump," Sate said.

Palpatine stared. “You have to be joking.” 

Sate grimaced. “I wish I were. But this should help us shake them loose.”

Palpatine peered over the edge and calculated the distance. “That’s at least a five-story drop, Sate.” _He could be killed…. What do I care? But he could._

“Into a water storage unit,” Pestage defended, looking back as he heard the angry voices approaching. “It will pad the fall.”

“Sate, you aren’t able to…” He was beginning to have doubts about the sanity of his assistant. Pestage was no Sith, blast it, he was not even Force-sensitive. “It will only work if the ceiling breaks.”

Pestage smirked. “It will.”

“How do you know?”

Sate’s beady eyes widened as he glanced behind them. “There’s only one way to find out! Jump!”

“You must be – ” And he did not finish his sentence, because Sate shoved him out into the thin embrace of empty air, both of them plunging feet first toward the rapidly growing water storage unit. Pestage lowered his blaster and squeezed off multiple shots, and the cover smashed into a thousand ringing pieces. Just in time, because they were there and slicing deep into the green-tinged water.

The young Sith Lord sank until he reached the floor of the unit, heavy robes dragging him down, then pushed hard and broke the surface to find Pestage clambering out already.

Palpatine pulled himself over the tall edge of the tank and landed with a wet slap on the metal platform below. Beside him, Sate was hurriedly wringing out his sleeves. When the assassin finished, he turned to Palpatine next, and the Senator allowed it with a longsuffering sigh. “Next time, I’m taking Kinman.”

Pestage dared a grin. “Kinman would have panicked. I had a plan.”

Palpatine glanced at the high drop. “Your plans need considerable work.”

Pestage flinched. “Perhaps. And we need to keep moving.”

Palpatine felt it before he saw it: the arrival of their pursuers in the distant window. “Agreed.” He shook his head, feeling the liquid splatter in a wide radius from the tips of his red hair. His elegant robes were doubtless ruined until they saw the other side of a tailor and cleaning service. There came shouting before shooting, but before long he and Sate were dashing down the alleyway in a burst of frantic blasterfire. From that distance, the Weequays found no easy targets in the two humans, and they soon gave up their overhead perch.

The two men finally rounded a corner and paused for air. Sate leaned against the alley wall, breathing deeply. “You know they’re going to be coming after us,” he wheezed. "Eventually."

“Who’s fault is that?”

Sate’s beady eyes gleamed with amused resentment. “Who was the one who wanted to visit that place and make a senator’s questionable dealing?”

“As I recall, I wasn’t the one who threw the insult on the way out the door.” Palpatine felt his blood singing for violence against those who pursued them, but he was a Senator. It wouldn’t do to let Sidious out here, where the wrong people or droids might see. Carefully he drew in his ragged breathing, feeling surprisingly winded.

And surprisingly something else too. The way Sate had shoved him out into the air, full knowing who and what he was, unafraid of him and simply determined to protect him…

Such loyalty. Rarely did Palpatine see it, and something that rare… well, he knew quality when he saw it. And he knew adoration, too. It felt… good.

"Sir?" Sate asked curiously, stepping closer. "We should go…"

He had always seen the way Sate looked at him. Endless longing controlled by ruthless self-discipline. He remembered the night Sate had deduced the terrible truth about the relationship between Palpatine and Damask, how he had to threaten the man to simply go home. He remembered too how he had once so coldly tested Sate's resolve, and how Sate had not broken his trust. 

_What a sentimental fool,_ he thought, and yet… Plagueis was far away, recovering, and Sate was here, and faithful, and patient. 

In that cold, soggy alley, so deep in the heart of Coruscant that he'd gotten lost, Palpatine _decided_ . And the simple fact that he could just… decide, of his own free will… it thrilled him and fired him in places he never imagined could even fire like that again. It reminded him of… _no, don't think of that, think of him._

He reached out to grip Sate's soaking wet lapels and spun him to land with his back against the grimy warehouse wall. Then he kissed him, hard and angry and pleased all at once. He did not close his eyes, watching as Sate's widened to near comical proportions. Palpatine could feel his assistant's breath in his mouth, hot and wet and shocked. 

Finally he broke the kiss and straightened. Sate stared, black hair plastered in wet rivulets down his long forehead. 

"You hesitated," Palpatine accused, low. He kept his grip tight on Sate's clothing. 

"Sir…?" Sate blinked. He kicked his lips and Palpatine could feel the nervous fear amd utter confusion leaking from him. 

"At the Canted Circle. I saw you," Palpatine bared his teeth. "When Magister Damask was down on the floor and the assassin was nearly on him, you hesitated before pulling that trigger."

Sate swallowed. Then a light of his own fired in his eyes, and he said quietly, "Yes. I did, sir."

"Why?" The air shivered between them. He could see Sate fighting for the courage to speak. 

"Because he never deserved you. And he should not have you."

Whether he kissed him to shut him up, or because those honest words pinched something deep inside, Palpatine would never try to analyze it. But kiss him he did, slamming the taller man's shoulders against the wall with calculated roughness and covering his mouth once more. 

He could feel Sate's hands fluttering anxiously in the air beside them. Palpatine laughed, taking Sate's lower lip between his teeth and nipping. 

Hard.

Those once fluttering hands clamped down on his hips, and Sate finally began to respond. Something swelled in his trousers, and Palpatine was shocked to find himself responding in kind. 

He looked up into Sate's face and those dark eyes. "You're mine now, not his."

Sate nodded. "I was never his."

 _And neither am I._ "Good." Palpatine's teeth flashed in the gloom. "Because we're going to fuck, Sate, and neither one of us is going to regret it."

And they never did. And if it so quickly turned into something far more than animalistic fucking in dark alleyways, Palpatine never questioned it. Not when Sate secretly moved into his apartment. Not when they spent more nights making love and dreaming of their ambitions than exploring the depths of Coruscant. Not even when he nearly died killing his master to protect his lover. 

He would never look back, only forward, and Sate Pestage the ever-faithful would always be at his side. He would have it no other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I really hope you like your gift fic, Multiversed_Daydreamer!  
> 2\. These two totally live happily ever after, because Palps figures out the secret to immortality and keeps his assassin alive too.  
> 3\. Because it's the time of year for fluff. I have spoken.


End file.
